


Not an Addict

by AngelGirl4212



Category: Clerks. (1994)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 01:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelGirl4212/pseuds/AngelGirl4212
Summary: Everyone notices that Dante takes too much Tylenol.





	Not an Addict

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. The plot, and I use that term loosely, was inspired by an episode of _Clerks: The Animated Series_. The story takes place after _Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back _but is strongly influenced by _Clerks_. Still with me? Good. I'm not making any money, from this or otherwise._

“The deeper you stick it in your vein, the deeper the thoughts. There's no more pain. I'm in heaven, I'm a god, I'm everywhere; I feel so hot.

“It's not a habit, it's cool. If you don't have it, you're on the other side. I'm not an addict . (Maybe that's a lie).”

-K's Choice, “Not An Addict”

“I think it just kicked in Silent Bob.”

Jay lay sprawled on the convenience store floor. Above him loomed the large and overly bright fluorescent lights. Just outside his field of vision, Randal was laughing.

“Burn boy fall down go boom.”

Dante snorted before reaching down, grabbing Jay under the arms and yanking him to his feet. As soon as the floor was back under his sneakers, he was in Randal's face.

“I didn't fall. Uh-uh. No fucking way.”

“Actually you did,” Dante's voice was calm, but too tired to be patronizing. “Randall spilled some soda.”

Randal ignored both men and continued laughing, “That was almost worth lifting the restraining order for.”

Dante threw his friend a disgusted glare, “Will you stop antagonizing him! And get the mop. Someone needs to clean this mess up.”

“Whatever,” Randal picked back up his abandoned porno magazine and began indifferently flipping through it.

“Asshole,” Jay started walking back towards the door. “Come on Silent Bob, we're outta here.”

He only managed to take a step or two before he found himself, once again, staring at The Quick Stop ceiling. Bob moved to help Jay; behind him, Dante sighed.

“I'll get the mop.”

***

“This sour cream is mouldy. I want my money back.”

Dante sighed, grabbing the container from the over-dressed woman. He checked the expiry date to the impatient tapping of her high heeled shoe. The steady clicking was irritating and Dante was forced to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling at her.

“When did you buy it?”

“Three days ago.”

“Did you keep it in the fridge?”

Randal came up behind him, flipping noisily through the rack of magazines.

“Um. Yeah,” she nodded vigorously.

Randal rolled his eyes back and reached over Dante, grabbing the small green and white container. With a speed that rarely displayed itself, he checked the expiry date.

“Three days ago, according to the date on this tub, this sour cream was 'good'. In other words, you bought it knowing that you had three days to eat it and before it had achieved the slightly green state,” his nose wrinkled with disgust, “that it resembles now. That gave you three days to eat this small quantity of sour cream. You didn't. You don't get your money back.”

She stood there, her mouth hanging open. Dante could almost hear the multitude of curse words her brain was suggesting her mouth to use. He winced and looked over at Randal, wondering if he could sense how close he was to being bitched out by an elderly woman with an underdeveloped fashion sense. However, Randal's face was blank and unconcerned. She was still standing there like an idiot when Randal got a pack of light cigarettes for the young man standing behind her. She stomped out of the store, moments later, muttering curses and threatening to call their manager.

“Go ahead lady!”

Dante shook his head, “He's going to think that I told her off.”

“So?”

He hung his head, “Never mind.”

He could feel his head starting to pound and he rummaged around for his small bottle of Tylenol. It was just under the cash. Palming a couple of pills, he worked the spit around his mouth, preparing himself to dry swallow the tiny caplets.

“You take too many of those,”his head moved slightly, nodded towards the pill bottle.

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. I been here for four hours now and have seen you take at least four of those things.”

“There's no way I took four!”

“See? Now you're getting all defensive. Deep down, you know you have a problem. You're taking them out of habit, wanting the psychological effect. I bet you don't even have a headache.”

Dante's mouth dropped open, “But I **do** have a headache!”

Randal shook his head, “Sure you do.”

“But I--”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that,” Randal grabbed a Gatorade and walked towards the door. “Time to open the video store.”

“It's five o'clock!”

“So I'm a little late. See you later...You're giving me a ride home right?”

Dante nodded, “See you later.”

***

Crumpled papers and numerous cigarette butts littered the small apartment. The battered colour television was blaring, Homer's yellow cartoon hands wrapped firmly around Bart's neck. Bob sat in front of it, laughing, a bowl of popcorn in his lap and a cigarette burning in a nearby ashtray. Next to him, Jay was passed out. His mouth was hanging open and an unflattering amount of drool dampened the sofa's fabric. Jay's arm hung down. Almost touching the floor and only inches away from Bob's unopened beer.

“Fight and kill and fight and kill. Fight,fight, fight, kill, kill, kill. The Itchy and Scratchy Show,” the music was loud and Jay snorted in his sleep.

Bob turned down the volume, opening his can of beer while setting down the remote and dropping kernels all over the floor. When he settled back, he accidentally leaned on Jay's other arm.

“Watch it!” Jay sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What the fuck are we watching?”

Bob cocked his head waiting for Jay to wake up enough to process the images on the screen. Jay, however, had lost interest in television and was searching his pockets for a joint. Bob watched with silent disapproval.

“What?” Jay lit the one that he had discovered between the seat cushions. “This?” He held up the hand holding the illegal substance.

Bob nodded. The disapproval still clearly written across his broad features. Jay only looked disgusted.

“You do it too so don't act all fucking high and mighty and shit.”

Bob shrugged. He could have argued, saying that he didn't feel the need to get high the moment he woke up. He could have, but he didn't. Instead, he let the subject drop. Reaching for the remote, he pushed the ashtray closer to the middle of the table. The volume went up three notches on the television and the chance for any conversation was lost.

***

Dante was restocking the cooler. The milk was low and several of those left were expired. The date on those jugs read October twenty-fourth, which was yesterday's date. Randal had worked alone at The Quick Stop that day and obviously hadn't bothered doing more than babysitting the cash register and flipping through magazines for eight hours. Dante sighed. Standing up, he began the task of disposing of the soured dairy products.

The door chime signaled the entrance of a customer and Dante began to move back towards his position behind the counter. He stopped in his tracks, however, upon seeing that the “customer” was only Randal.

“Hey,” Dante crossed his arms over his chest. “Since you're here why don't you take out the garbage. It's overflowing.”

Randal looked over at the garbage can. Garbage, mainly consisting of colourful candy wrappers, stood several inches above the can's rim as well as littering the area surrounding it. Several flies had already discovered the mess and were happily buzzing around it.

“No can do.”

“What?!”

Randal's tone turned patronizing. “I said that I can't. Today's my day off. I'm here right now as a paying customer.”

Dante sighed again. The pressure was beginning to build up at the sides of his head. Randal, meanwhile, had grabbed a magazine and settled himself behind the counter.

“I thought it was your day off,” Dante rubbed his temples.

“It is. I just thought that you could use my company.”

“Gee, how considerate.”

Randal ignored the sarcasm in Dante's statement and returned to his magazine. It was on the tip of Dante's tongue to whine about how he wasn't supposed to be here today either, but he didn't. Instead he started picking the trash up off the floor. Randal was still sitting there reading when Dante left to put the trash bag outside.

If Randal had been watching Dante rather than looking at half naked women in a variety of sexual positions, he would have noticed a small bulge in Dante's pocket. For the first time, the front left pocket. Tylenol was now taken out of Randal's sight, such as the two taken only minutes later, after washing his hands in the employee restroom.

***

“Man, that Borg bitch is smoking!”

Jay was stretched out in front of the t.v., his feet resting on their much abused coffee table. Despite the fact that the table was only level due to the books, the only books in their possession, propping up the one table leg, Jay was comfortable.

“If I had ten fucking minutes with that bitch, I'd have her moaning “oooh.” Have her fucking soaking...” his pelvic area jutted up and down, an obscene mimicry of sexual intercourse.

In the other room, Silent Bob was tearing apart the kitchen in search of instant coffee. Jay's constant commentary was nothing new and was effortlessly ignored.

“That skin-tight suit....Booyeah!”

Bob finally located their coffee but couldn't find their coffee pot. He ran the kitchen tap until it steamed, filling the two mugs and dissolving the heaps of coffee sitting at the bottom of each cup. He brought those and the container of sugar into the living room.

“Bitch, you are so lucky that you didn't forget that sugar.”

Bob continued to ignore him.

Jay took the spoon out of his mug and used it to dump sugar into his coffee. Bob, as always, was amazed by the quantity of sugar that Jay could digest.

“You missed Seven of Nine pushing on that Harry dude. Can you believe he didn't mack her! What a fucking cockboy huh...”

Bob shut him up with a look. Of course, by that time the end credits were rolling and Bob had missed everything. Jay ignored the irritated looks he was getting and reached for a cigarette instead. He reached across the table to steal Bob's lighter. Bob didn't care.

The lighter was dropped into Jay's pocket for later use.

***

“Package of wraps.”

The routine was old to both of them and Jay pushed the money across the counter before Dante could even state the price.

“Not like it's any of my business and shit, but why the fuck do you have a bottle of Tylenol in your pocket?”

Dante stared at him in disbelief, “How did you know it was Tylenol?”

“Saw you pop a couple outside,” Jay shrugged. “Not my business.”

“No, it's not. Now if you don't mind, we're closing.”

“Like I said not my business,” Jay grabbed his wraps. “Come on, Silent Bob. Let's leave this cocksmoking bitch alone.”

The door chime signaled Jay's exit. Silent Bob stood alone in front of the counter. Dante didn't notice him until he spoke, assuming that he had left with his friend.

“There are worse things you can get hooked on, I'll give you that,” Bob's tone was serious and his voice quiet. “But abusing drugs is abusing drugs. Is this what you want?”

Dante didn't answer, didn't want to answer. He looked down at the counter, focusing on the groves and edges on its surface. The door chime signaled Bob's leaving moments later.

Fishing the near empty bottle out of his pants, he tossed it into the garbage can. It hit the bottom with an audible 'clunk'.

The door chimed, “Are you giving me a ride home or what?”

Dante looked up, “Sure. Just give me a couple of minutes.”

Outside Jay and Silent Bob were walking to their bus stop. A joint being passed between them, they took turns taking hits as they walked.

The End


End file.
